


Smoke and Mirrors

by Anonymous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brainwashing, Drug Use, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a gaping hole festering in their world, each day a reminder of their loss, every moment a reminder of their brother's death. Then... they found someone perfect to fill in the empty space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Angus stared at the brightly coloured ceiling listlessly, no idea how long had he been wallowing in Oliver's room. 

It's been two years since England collapsed, marking Oliver's death.

( _Prussia no longer existed, but why was he alive_?)

The English had taken to calling themselves the Scottish, the Irish, Welsh, Cornish and all - just not English anymore. Any hopes of finding Oliver were crushed by that. Fucking parliament and imperialism. 

_'Oliver hated cursing_ ,' the thought popped in Angus's mind, and he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers over them to stop the tears from forming. 

Everyone saw it coming, but no one did anything about. Then again, everyone expected England - Oliver - to rise up stronger and wiser, his kind smile still as bright as the sun. Except he didn't. 

If only Angus fought harder or have every last penny and fu- ignored whatever his people said, then Oliver would still be alive and well and with them. Now... Angus would do anything, any fucking thing, just to bring him back. 

"Hey, you fruit, are you there?" Angus' eyes snapped open and jumped up, searching for the voice. 

He could have sworn he heard Oliver, but that wasn't possible, Oliver was - is - dead and... A

A knock on glass and another call.

"Look, I don't have time for your usual brand of bullshit, so I would really want this over with and done." The hope that grew in the Scotsman's chest died when he realised that the speaker was not his younger brother. 

The soft and gentle Yorkshire accent was sharp and caustic RP, cold and yet it barely concealed the foul mouth and fiery temper. Angus glanced around, searching for the source, and then his eyes landed on the vanity mirror Oliver kept, and Angus felt his heart shudder to a stop. 

The reflection in the mirror was Oliver, yet it was not. Ash blonde in place of strawberry blonde, clear skin instead of freckles dotting almost every inch, and deep green instead of baby blue around rose pink. If Angus didn't know any better, he would have believed his brother was alive. 

"Oliver is not here?" the imitation asked when his gaze landed on the brunet, frowning, and then he sighted in exasperation and Angus felt a little more of that hope die when every small habit accentuated the differences between Oliver and the stranger. "Well, I'm afraid I can't stay for long, please tell him to contact me immediately, please." 

Angus wanted to talk to this man that had his brother's face, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to reach out and high and never let go. He missed his Oliver so much that he's willing to shower a pale reflection with all the love and affection he could not give to Oliver. Yet he remained frozen, his shock and fascination left him immobile and mute. 

Then, the mirror rippled, and then the image was gone. 

Yet... a spark of hope ignited. 

Maybe, just maybe... Angus will find a way to have Oliver back, and he will do anything to make it happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur woke up in an unfamiliar room.

He blinked at the sight of a brightly coloured ceiling instead of the neutral beige of his room, or Gilbert's arms around his waist. When Arthur tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness hit him and he clenched his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of pain and white noise buzzing inside his head.

What the fuck happened last night?

There was a knock, whoever it was didn't bother to wait for a reply, and the sound of a door opening made Arthur to look left.

The Englishman's eyes narrowed at the sight of a man with strange likeness to Emrys, except this man had light brown hair and eyes instead of Emrys' bluish-black hair and green eyes. The man's build was more on the stockier side and he was definitely taller than Emrys, and the infamous thick eyebrows were not present, but the similarities in regards to the appearance of the two were undeniable.

"I thought you might have wanted something to eat, so Angus made some muffins, black pudding, some fry ups, and tea," said the stranger, bringing Arthur's attention to the tray with a metal lid on top he was carrying.The Welshman removed the lid and the smell of various breakfast food made Arthur realise that he was starving, and the stranger's accent was definitely Welsh but not Emrys'. 

"Who are you?" Arthur asked instead, eyes narrowed. He had no recollections of how he ended up in this place, and the man's timing was far too prefect to know he was awake. Arthur kept his guard up, knowing that he was probably held here against his will. The blonde would definitely not accept any sort of food from them at all. 

"I'm David, the personification of Wales." Arthur narrowed his eyes and he would have scoffed if the man didn't follow with,"of this dimension anyway. If you were acquainted with Oliver, I would be his brother." 

Oh. 

"I see..." On the next pressing matter... . "How did I end up in this place?" 

Because the last thing Arthur remembered.... 

Throwing a book at Alistair's face before locking himself inside his room, planning on sneaking out to a pub to keep the misery away with Gilbert. He couldn't remember what he and Alistair fought about, but it must have been really bad if Arthur planned on drinking the night away and then end up somewhere to beat the snot out of someone before ending up getting beaten as well, like how most of his spontaneous sessions of drinking out of the house when angry ended. 

Granted it was rare (especially if he had Gilbert with him) to happen, even when Arthur would sometimes wake up in someone else's house every now and then. But in another dimension? Definitely the first time. 

"Magic," was the simple reply, and the tray was placed in Arthur's lap gently, with David smiling - a strange expression to see in Emrys' face, since the older nation usually had a blank stare or something similar to mild annoyance whenever he talked to Arthur, so it was quite disquieting to see a smile instead of a frown. 

"Really now?" Arthur couldn't help the cool irritation in his tone from appearing, and before David can reply, the blonde cut him off. "See, I avoid my books and other tools when I'm drinking. On contrary to popular belief, I never screw a spell unless someone has been tampering with it. You took me here."

The smile slipped off from the Welshman's face and something unreadable replaced the expression. Before Arthur can continue, his hands were pulled above his head suddenly, and his back was already pressed back in the bed. 

"What on-" before Arthur could finish what he was about to say, golden dust fell above his head and a wave of exhaustion and sleepiness settled over him. His vision darkened and the desire to sleep over escape overcame him. 

"Fae... dust?" Already, Arthur could feel his consciousness slipping away, and before he realised it, he had already fallen asleep. 

The personification of Wales sighed, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows in stress. He looked at the unconscious nation on Oliver's bed, bound by invisible restraints and the tray on his lap still undisturbed. David moved it to the drawer next to the bed, and then dispersed the bonds with a wave of his hands before leaving the room. 

The brunet made his way to the kitchen, where Angus and his nephew awaited. 

"This is a bad idea," he started as he entered, glaring at the Scotsman. 

"Give it a little time," the other personification replied, brushing Seámus's hair with his hand. 

"But... he's not mam," the personification of Northern Ireland said. "I miss him a lot, but that guy in mam's room scares me...." 

"Don't worry about it," Angus assured, David looked unconvinced. 

"Not unless you deliberately use something to have Oliver's spirit possess Arthur, that England can't be our England." 

"But... what if I have a sure way of bringing Oliver back using him?" Angus continued, "True, we can't resurrect Oliver, but I have a way to bring him back through something else." 

David's brows furrowed in confusion, uncomprehending. Angus grabbed something from his pocket and showed it to the younger nation, grinning ear to ear. Realisation dawned in the Welshman and he looked up at thee personification of Scotland with a raw expression. 

In Angus's hand was a necklace, its pendant was a clear orb held by a tiny golden claw.

_That changes everything_ , he thought. He held it with something like reverence, taking in the details, noting the runes engraved within the metal and what it did when worn. 

"This... this can work," he admitted. David almost didn't notice he was trembling, and that his throat was painfully dry. He returned the necklace to Angus, his fingers ghosting over it before letting go. 

Angus's hand closed over it, cool metal digging lightly in his skin, yet the stone within the pendant was unnaturally warm. 

When he opened ithis hand, the orb was no longer clear. Rather it was now a soft baby blue, with a sphere of rose pink floating within the centre. 

Somewhere else, Alistair pushed Arthur's door open and then sighed heavily when he saw an empty bed instead.


End file.
